


Crescent

by starvonnie



Series: Flare, Flicker, Fade [4]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Bad Parenting, Grief/Mourning, Transformer Sparklings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-15
Updated: 2016-11-15
Packaged: 2018-08-31 06:19:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8567257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starvonnie/pseuds/starvonnie
Summary: It's been a year now.  Megatron is gone and Rodimus is faced with the daunting task of raising their sparkling on his own.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Megatron does not die in this fic but is gone and Rodimus is mourning him. Hence the "Major Character Death" warning.

"Do you want to bond?"

Rodimus slowly lifted his helm from the berth.  Even that felt like it would take every ounce of strength in his frame.  No matter how much energon he had in his tank, he felt like he was running on empty.  He couldn't do that, though.  Not anymore.  He was constantly being scrutinized.  Everyone was watching him.  Making sure he didn't hurt himself.

He half-expected to see a helm-shaped indent in his berth, but all he saw was rumpled sheets in need of a good cleaning.  _He_ was in need of a good cleaning, too.  All of his energy was put towards surviving.  There was nothing left for cleanliness.

Drift had stopped rubbing his back.  It had been the only thing to bring him some comfort that day and he wanted him to continue.  He had almost fallen offline.  Had almost escaped this reality, if only for a little while.  He could almost ignore the noise Crescent was making while he played.  At least he'd been kind enough not to bother him.

What a terrible thing to do.  To think his sparkling a bother.  But like many other things in life, Rodimus was a terrible parent.  He was surprised no one had taken him away yet.  Glad, but surprised.  Maybe it was his sire's CNA.  Maybe they'd already doomed him to a life of misery.  One where even his carrier couldn't look at him for too long.  If it weren't for Drift...

"If should help," Drift murmured, and, thankfully, his hand returned.  Making slow circles over his spoiler.  "We can share the emotional load.  Let me share it with you, Rodimus."

There had been a time where Rodimus had been angry.  A seething, destroy-everything-in-sight rage.  He couldn't remember _what_ had brought him there, but he did remember what stopped him from trashing his room for the umpteenth time.

He remembered calm.  An influx of it, all from Megatron.  Enough to give Rodimus a clear head.  Let him decide if this was _really_ worth it.  He was reminded of all the other times he had done this.  Sitting among the broken things in the aftermath of his tantrum, hating himself more than he had before.  That had been then.

Now, there were a multitude of holes in the wall.  The light on his berthside table was new.  The one that had to be replaced had sat broken on the floor for days, where tiny hands could grab and bleed, and Rodimus _knew_ this.  _Knew_ he had to clean it up.  Find the energy.  For Crescent.  But his strength was gone.  It had been gone for some time.  He had relied on his connection far too much, and now when he called on it, he found emptiness.  Yawning, dark, _nothingness_.

"No."  Rodimus' voice cracked from disuse.  The days blurred together, but he knew it had been quite a few since he'd spoken.  "Thank you," he added, trying and utterly failing to sound cheerful, "but... no."

"It should help," Drift repeated.  Then, his voice breaking, "I can't bear to see you like this."

"Then go."  Harsh, but Rodimus didn't have the capacity to care anymore.

"I'm not leaving, Rodimus.  Not today."

"Today?  Tomorrow?  What's the difference?"  Rodimus felt a tug on the arm that was hanging over the edge of the berth.  It didn't register with him until Crescent had been scooped up into Drift's arms, his little grey arms flailing.  Drift left a kiss on his cheek, which left him giggling, and Primus, if he wasn't precious.  But his smile just threw salt into the gaping wound in his spark.  One he'd left to fester and grow.  One he never thought would heal.  One that gave him pain he could only grow accustom to.

"What do you need, sweetspark?" Drift asked him, smoothing a hand over his crest, as deep a red as his optics.  He practically purred under his touch.  Rodimus had never managed to be careful enough to handle it.  He'd stopped trying after a while.

Crescent made a grabbing motion towards Rodimus, even managing to touch the panel housing his feeder line.  He hadn't meant to flinch under his son's touch, but he did, which had Crescent making a distressed gurgling noise.

"You need fuel?" Drift surmised, holding Crescent's attention while Rodimus forced himself to sit up.  "Do you need it right now?"

"I'm okay, Drift," Rodimus whispered.  He grunted and groaned as he moved struts and pistons that would have had every right to rust themselves immovable.  But they continued to work, albeit with some resistance.  By the time he had sat up, though, Drift had stood, with Crescent still in his arms.

"You need fuel first," Drift said, crossing the room.  The further he got from Rodimus, the more Crescent squirmed, but he never managed to escape.  Drift had become an expert with sparklings, though he had none of his own.  "Do you even have enough to give him any?"

Drift retrieved a cube from Rodimus' store, but instead of bringing it straight to Rodimus, he poured some into a tiny glass.

"Here," he murmured to Crescent, holding the glass to his lips, "drink this.  It will tide you over."

"What are you doing?"  If Rodimus had had the energy, he would have gone over there and snatched Crescent out of his arms.

"Ratchet wants to start weaning him onto straight energon," Drift explained.  "Plus, this will give you time to process this dose."  When Crescent had finished, he crossed back over and handed Rodimus what was left of the cube.

"I decide what's best for my son!"  Rodimus snapped.  He took the glass and chugged it.  He hadn't realized how much he had needed that.

"Go play now," Drift said to Crescent.  "Rodimus will give you more fuel in a little while, okay?"

Crescent gave his carrier a worried look, one so familiar to Rodimus, before he scampered off.

With a sigh, Drift turned to his amica and said, "You're hurting him, Rodimus."

"Don't you think I know that?"  Rodimus' helm went to his hands, where they squeezed.  Hard.

Gentle as ever, Drift pried his fingers off of him before he could do any damage.  "Hurting yourself won't do either of you any good."  He hesitated, but still said, "And Megatron wouldn't want you to."

"I don't deserve him, Drift."  Rodimus felt heavy again.  Like the weight of the universe rested on him.  When his only responsibility was Crescent.  And he was fragging that up royally.  Even with Drift to help him.  "He's perfect, Drift, he's perfect, and I'm..."

"No one is perfect, Rodimus."

Crescent had apparently ignored Drift, as he stood near the end of the berth on Rodimus' peripheries, holding his little hands, staring at his carrier.  Cautiously, he took a few steps towards him.

With a mix of sorrow and happiness, Rodimus regarded him.  In a quiet voice, he said, "C'mere."

His little pedes pitter-pattered as he ran to him, enthusiastically jumping into Rodimus' arms.  He hugged him as fiercely as his little frame was able, as though he were trying to comfort him.  It should have been the other way around.  He was the parent.  But he accepted his son's comfort nonetheless, and it was so honest and innocent that it actually felt good.

"I'm sorry," Rodimus whispered to him.  He opened his tightly shut optics when he felt small hands on his face, pushing up at either side of his mouth.

"I think he wants you to smile," Drift suggested gently.

Rodimus brought their forehelms together, stroking his sparkling's back the same way Drift had his.  "I'm sorry, Crescent, but I'm not sure I can today."  He tried to look at him.  At his face.  He really did.  But in the end, he had to hide Crescent's face in his shoulder.  Turning slightly towards Drift, he whispered, voice breaking, "He looks so much like Megatron."

Crescent didn't have his sire's bulk, but the crest, his optics, his helm shape...  All Megatron. 

"I know, Rodimus," Drift sympathized. 

"Mm..."  Crescent fussed in Rodimus' arms.

"Do you need fuel?"  Rodimus quickly checked his HUD.  His feeding tank was only half full, but it was better than nothing.  Then he forced himself to look into those ruby red optics.  So much like his sire's.  He had to get over this.

"Mmmeh."  Crescent looked very focused.

"Is he?"  Drift looked cautiously excited.

"Yes?" Rodimus prompted, even feeling a bit of excitement himself.  Not a lot, but it was more than he'd felt in a long while.  It was almost overwhelming compared to the absence of emotion he was so used to.

"Meeehg... ah..."

Rodimus sparked simultaneously soared and plummeted.  Like it was trying to rip itself in two.  He made sure to keep his gaze soft as he looked at his son, though.  "Your sire."

Crescent nodded, face still scrunched up in concentration.

"Talking's hard, huh?" Rodimus sympathized, to which Crescent responded by putting a hand over his mouth.

Drift giggled.

"Mega-t-t-t-t."  Crescent huffed in frustration.  "Mega-t-t-t-t-troooooh."

"You'll get it," Drift murmured, and Crescent huffed again.

"I think he wants us to shut up," Rodimus said as Crescent's hand pressed more firmly on his mouth.

"Tron," Drift finished for him.  "Tro-on," he sounded it out.

Crescent shot him a glare that would have put his sire to shame, but on such a tiny face it could only look cute.  Something Crescent clearly wasn't going for.

"Mega," Crescent repeated, having gotten that down.  His optics focused back on Rodimus.  "Nnn," he tested the sound, clearly not enjoying the feel of it.  "Tro, nn.  Trooonnnn.  Tron.  Mega.  Tron."  He took a deep ventilation, optics sparkling with a fierce determination.  "Megatron."

"Good job!"  Drift celebrated, clapping his hands.

Rodimus waited until Crescent removed his hand.  Once he did, he repeated, "Your sire."  Then, he pulled his sparkling in close.  Not out of desperation that time, but out of love.  "He would have loved you very much.  And you know that I love you, right Crescent?"

"Love," Crescent repeated, hugging Rodimus' neck.  He seemed to have no trouble with that word.

"I'll do better," Rodimus promised.

"You're not alone," Drift reminded him,  "I said I would raise Crescent like my own, and I will."  His voice took on a sad tone then.  "Ratchet's too busy for a sparkling of our own, anyways."

"I love you Drift." 

Drift smiled at him, putting his arm around his shoulders.  "I love you, too, Rodimus.  And you, Crescent."

"Love!"  It was a screech in both of their audials, but they knew Crescent hadn't meant to hurt them.  More quietly, much to the relief of their ringing audials, he said, "Love, Megatron."

Rodimus held him a little tighter.  "He loves you, too."

The emptiness was still there, but this embrace shrank it a little.  Just a little.  Made him... hopeful?

"We'll get through this," Drift whispered, just to Rodimus.  "I'll be with you every step of the way.  I'll help you through it."

Leaning more against Drift, Rodimus whispered, "Thank you."

**Author's Note:**

> Now that I have all the sad parts done I can get working on the alternate ending! The one where Megatron doesn't die.


End file.
